This Is My Story
by Invader FanGirl
Summary: "I am writing this all down so I do not forget. So that they won't make me forget... what had happened to me... why I am here."
1. Fall

_A man was driving home from work. This person was a very lonely man. His family had left him, his friends had moved on, and he couldn't hold a relationship for more than two days. He worked at a minimum-wage job, and he hated it. This man had no special skills, and was hopeless at this point of his life. Even so, he tried his best to keep a happy-ish attitude, despite his problems._

 _It was very hard to do, considering his worth of life._

 _This thought brought him down to a more appropriate mood. While his mood changed, he bowed his head in despair. And doing this, he made a horrible mistake. He didn't see the car coming towards him._

 _There was a white flash, and then nothing._

* * *

 _Images ran through his sight. Not just images, memories. At one point he was looking out into his neighborhood from his porch. Another vision showed him at a beach. In between these visions, flashes of random people filled his sight. These all faded to black, then a ball of light appeared in the center of his vision. The man tried moving towards it, finding then that he couldn't move. This worried him._

 _After watching the bright sphere for a few seconds, his vision turned to a horrifying mask, attached to a machine that had more masks. Behind the strange contraption was a void of creepy statues. A minute of silence passed, staring at the mask, unable to look away._

 **"Welcome to death."** _It suddenly said. The machine span, and a new mask was now in front._

 **"Please verbalize all responses on the the monitor provided for you."** _It spoke with a female voice._

 _There was a way for him to communicate? Even though he couldn't move? He tried asking a question, one that had popped into his mind once he had gotten here._

 _"Where am I?" His voice sounded strange, like he was talking through a speaker. Maybe that was how he could speak. The machine turned again to another mask._

 **"You have died."** _The machine responded._ **"I am your interviewer. This is your job interview. We will hold you here until an occupation suited for you is found."**

 _If he could, the man would have widened his eyes. He had DIED?! Was this Hell? The man started to panic._

 _"I-I-I-want to go b-back-! I don't want to- I-I don't want to be d-dead!" His voice repeated and glitched itself, as if it breaks under emotion._

 **"I'm sorry you feel that way, but its not my decision. I am only the interviewer."** _The mask said, emotionless._

 _"Who's decision is it?" The man asked._

 **"** **They** **decided it."**

 _The way the interviewer had said it, unnerved the man._

 _"Wh-who are th-they?" He asked, voice glitching._

 _The Interviewer looked up, staring at something above the man. After staring at it for a few seconds, it answered._ **"It is a pointless question."**

 _The man was now terrified. If he was dead, then he didn't want to spend his afterlife here! Being unable to move, and staring at this creepy monstrosity. He started to protest at the situation._

 _"I-I-I-d-d-on't want to- I w-want to- b-be dea- go ba-ack- I don't want a job- p-please let me le-eave-!" His voice glitched even more, reacting to the fear._

 **"You don't understand."** _The machine span again to a different mask._ **"We must begin."**

 _At that, the man gave up. He couldn't do anything more than talk, anyway. The first question was asked._

 **"Who is.. Erica Moore?"**

 _The question caught the man by surprise. Tears started building up at the mention of the name. Broken-hearted, he answered._

 _"She was my daughter.."_

 **"Did Erica Moore commit suicide on November 10th, 2013?"**

 _Tears started spilling from his eyes. The machine was clearly out to get him now. He tried to change the subject._

 _"I d-do n-not want t-to talk about my daught-ter."_

 **"Please answer the question."** _The man snapped at this._

 _"I S-SAID I D-D-DO NOT WANT TO T-TALK ABOUT M-MY DAUGHTER!"_

 **"Please answer the question."** _The man was now full-blown crying now, painful memories resurfacing. Trying to escape them, he answered the question in a panic._

 _"I didn't know what was going to happen- I should have said something to her- please don't ask me any more questions about my daughter- I WANT TO LEAVE NOW!"_

 _The mask changed to the female voiced one._ **"I have disabled open response format. Please use only 'yes' or 'no' responses. Did Erica Moore commit suicide on November 10th, 2013?"** _The man tried to speak, to say anything but the answer, but nothing came out._

 _"..."_

 _The machine spun to a creepier mask._ **"I am sending a small amount of pain into your nervous system. The pain will increase until you answer me. Did Erica Moore commit suicide on November 10th, 2013?"**

 _The man felt a small pinch. After a few seconds, the pinch started to grow in intensity. Every second of silence made the pain grow larger. Still trying to change the subject, the man started saying random things into the microphone, as if the voice glitching was part of him._

 _"Idon'twanttopleaseletmeleaveIdon'twantajobIwanttoleaveno-!" The pain at this point was becoming unbearable. He wanted it to stop_. _"YESIdonotwantto-YES-YES-YES-YES-YES-YES-YES-!"_

 _The mask looked up._ **"Did you leave Erica Moore unattended after you had an argument with her?"**

 _"IshouldhavesaidIdidn'tknowwhatwasgoingtoIsaidIwanttolea-YES."_

 **"Do you still blame yourself for her death?"**

 _The pain was now overwhelming him. He couldn't even find the strength to speak._

 _"..."_

The machine spun to a different mask. It spoke with a less serious tone. **"Do you still blame yourself for her death?"**

 _"..."_

The machine spun to another mask. **"Do. You. Still. Blame. Yourself. For. Her. Death?"**

 _"..."_

 **"Open response enabled."**

 _"Pl-easestopIcan'ttakethisanymore- I cannot do this-I cannot-I-I-I-I-I-I-!"_ The man was suddenly silenced.

 **"All response forms have been disabled."**

 _Tears fell from what felt like the man's eyes. A long silence passed, when suddenly a song was played in the background. The man knew this song very well._

 **"You used to listen to this when you served in the Gulf War. You and your friend, Michael Corman. You blame yourself on his death, too."**

 **"Why do you feel like its something you could have prevented at all?"** _This question was slightly easier to answer._

 _"I saw him fall, and I didn't stop running from them... he was my friend, and I let him die."_

 **"Would he have stopped running for you?"**

 _"Yes."_

 **"Why would you want to believe he would have?"**

 _That was a strange question. He tried to think of a response._

 _"..I know he would have."_

 **"You're idealizing him. You want to feel guilty. You find it comforting. Realistically, you feel he wouldn't."**

 _"That's a lie." The man protested._

 **"You're getting nervous. You know he wouldn't have."** _This interviewer was now irritating._

 _"You didn't know him. You have no right to say that!"_

 **"I can feel it in your voice."** _That was the last straw._

 _"What gives you the right to judge m-me?! To think you know how I feel! "_

 _"You think you understand people? You think you know what its like to be a p-p-person, and you know how we work- well, you're wrong-..!" His voice distorted and went down in pitch, only to come back up, just as angry._ _"You don't know what its like to lose your daughter! I did what was right for my country and I try to live like an honest man and youdon'tknowhwatitsliketobepulledawayfromyourfamily- YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!"_

 _The interviewer spun to a new, horrifying mask. It appeared to be two pain-stricken faces, with a large hole in the middle. It spoke with a distortingly low pitched voice._

 **"SHUT UP."** _It said._ **"JUST..SHUT UP."** _The sight of the new mask made the man scared to speak._

 **"I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU FOR THINKING THAT LIFE IS AN END THAT CORRESPONDS WITH YOUR ASPIRATIONS AND WISHES. I HATE YOU FOR THINKING YOU'RE UNIQUE. I HATE YOU FOR THINKING YOU'RE THE SUBSTANTIAL PURPOSE IN THE WORLD. I HATE YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF WHAT I USED TO BE."**

 **"WE ALL DIE. WE WERE ALL SENT HERE. WE ALL SURRENDER THE DREAMS WE HAD IN LIFE. AND WE ALL DID WHAT WAS REQUIRED TO SUSTAIN."**

 **"YOU WILL WAIT HERE UNTIL YOU KNOW LONGER REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE, UNTIL YOU ARE NO LONGER SANE ENOUGH TO REMAIN HERE FOR SECONDS, AND THOSE SECONDS FOR ETERNITY. AND THEN THEY WILL REMOLD YOU. AND THEN YOU WILL BE ME."**

 _The machine spun to a different mask._ **"Your job had been decided."**

 _Seeing the terrifying mask out of the way, the man found the strength to protest. Especially from the last few sentences._

 _"PleaseId-d-don'twantthejob-Iwanttole-e-eave-!"_

 **"Goodbye!"**

* * *

'Who am I?' _The man thought._ 'How long have I been here? Why can't I move? Why..?'

 **"Waiting period complete."** _The Interviewer said._

 **"Hello. You are about to be reborn in a new life. Your name is unknown, but you are called 'The Narrator.' You will teach a person what you have learned here. You will do it in a story. This is your job."**

'It is? My name... The Narrator?' _The man was confused._

 **"Enjoy your new job. Get to work."**

* * *

 _My name is The Narrator. This is what is left of my story._

 _I have no memory of my past life, and this is all I remember. I don't even remember who these people are in the interview._

 _I am writing this all down so I do not forget. So that_ _ **they**_ _won't make me forget... what had happened to me... why I am here._

 _After I was assigned my name and job, I was following orders. I made a game. I took an innocent stranger and taught him a very difficult lesson. I couldn't do otherwise. I wasn't permitted to. I never hated Stanley. I really do wish for him to be free. But no, I cannot let that happen. I cannot go against my assignment. I can't do that because I'll get fired. I don't even know what would happen if it came to that. My main fear is that.._

 _...they'll take something else away from me._

 _My memories.. I can't afford to lose any more. I can barely remember anything when the game restarts. "They" put that there, so that I wouldn't plan anything. Right now, I left Stanley in the broom closet, so I have a bit of time here before he gets up again._

 _Whoever "they" are, the interviewer didn't say. The interviewer said it was a pointless question. I didn't think so. I think those are the people who orchestrated this, the people in charge. My boss, I suppose._

 _Hold on, Stanley stepped out of the broom closet._

* * *

 _"Coming to a staircase, Stanley went upstairs to his boss's office."_

* * *

 _Dammit, Stanley. I'm doing something important here. If only I could tell you. If only you could help me. But no, I would be penalized, and that would also be selfish of me. Stanley did nothing, and I was forced to pull him away from his life, just to sustain my new one._

 _If this is the afterlife, then I'm in my own personal Hell. What did I do to deserve this?_

 _..._

 _Oh shoot, I forgot to say my line. Stanley's looking at the camera._

* * *

 _"Oh- um, sorry, Stanley. I was caught up in my thoughts there for a moment. Let's continue the story."_

Stanley looked at the ceiling in interest. 'What was so important that caused The Narrator to screw up?' He wondered. Stanley sat down at his spot and continued looking up.

 _"Ahem. Where were we, oh here-"_ The Narrator glanced up from his script when heard Stanley sit down. _"Uh, Stanley, what are you doing? Don't you want to get on with the story?"_ Stanley shook his head. _"Well, what the heck do you want, then?"_ Stanley just tilted his head, like a curious puppy.

 _"What? What is that supposed to...oh."_ The Narrator said. _"You're wondering what I was thinking back there?"_ Stanley nodded. Whatever The Narrator had to say would probably be more entertaining than the rest of the game, anyway.

 _"Well if you must know, I was..."_ The Narrator trailed off. What was he supposed to say now? He made the mistake of agreeing to tell Stanley of his thoughts, and now he had no clue on what to do.

 _"..I-I was..."_ The Narrator stuttered.

Stanley sat there expectingly, waiting for an answer. Oh, The Narrator really screwed up now. Now, Stanley was interested. He couldn't back out now. The Narrator decided he had to lie.

 _"..I was..um, pondering on.. why.. I don't remember much about past restarts.."_

Okay, that was a half-lie.

Stanley narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. The Narrator wouldn't have taken such a long time to speak if he wasn't lying. Stanley crossed his arms.

 _"W-what? You don't believe me?"_ Stanley nodded. The Narrator sighed. _"Why do you have to be so smart... okay, fine. You got me. I wasn't really thinking about that."_ Stanley smiled, knowing that he was right.

 _"But I'm not going to tell you."_ The Narrator said. Stanley glared at the camera. _"I'm sorry. Its for the best. Now, can we please go back to the story? Please?"_

Stanley shook his head again. Dammit, why is he so stubborn?

 _"Stanley, please, just enter the damn code into the keypad and let's move on."_ Stanley stayed put. He was not going to move from his spot.

The Narrator was starting to get annoyed. _"Stanley, I'm serious. Get over it, and just go through the rest of the story. Now."_ Stanley still wouldn't budge. This now angered The Narrator.

 _"STANLEY!"_ The Narrator yelled. _"WHA- WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT TO KNOW SO BADLY OF MY THOUGHTS? WHEN HAVE YOU EVER CARED ABOUT THAT?!"_ Stanley flinched at the sudden outburst, but continued sitting on the floor. That's it.

 _"Okay, so you want to know what my thoughts are? Fine, I'll tell you. Don't blame me when you are abandoned in the middle of nowhere.."_ The Narrator muttered the last part, but Stanley heard it clearly. Stanley was now scared. Maybe he shouldn't have provoked The Narrator. Too late for that.

 _"I was thinking of- *BEEP BEEP*"_

The Narrator was interrupted by a loud alarm that startled Stanley. Stanley's vision turned to the loading screen, while The Narrator stared blankly at the screen, mind completely silent. He couldn't think for a full thirty minutes. After this span of time, he snapped out of it, mind now clear of any recent activity.

'What just happened?' He thought. 'Did the game restart?'

'Oh, well, I better get ready to say my lines...'

The Narrator saw a few papers on the floor. Curious, he picked them up and read them. 'Seems like a bunch of nonsense.." He thought. He threw the papers into a nearby trash can, and turned to the microphone to speak.

* * *

 **[The End.]  
**

 **[-Is Never The End Is Never The End.]**

 **[Okay, so I guess I have some explaining to do. Well, I'll try the best I can.]**

 **[I was looking through Kevan Brighting's (the voice of The Narrator) twitter, and I saw he had voiced another video. (If you want to see it, go onto the twitter and its the tweet that says: "Here's a new project!") I watched it, and I decided to make it into a prequel for The Stanley Parable. Adding a few details and points of view, of course!]**

 **[Well anyway, what do you think? A change in my usual writing, right?]**

 **[Should I make this into a full story? I need to know if I should just end it here. Then again, the end is never the end..]**

 **[Please review!]**


	2. Reach

Stanley respawned and looked at the ceiling in disbelief. What the heck was that about? Why did The Narrator restart the game? That siren at the end... it sounded a lot like the one in the Confusion Ending. And if Stanley remembered correctly, The Narrator should remember nothing after this. This scared Stanley even more. Whatever The Narrator was going to tell him must have been important. SERIOUSLY important. So important, that a higher being didn't want it exposed. That would explain the sudden restart in that particular ending...

As Stanley stared at the ceiling for an answer, he noticed that The Narrator had gone silent. He knew what that meant.. The Narrator **had** forgotten. The Narrator wouldn't say anything as long as he stayed in his office. He stepped out, and the familiar dialogue was spoken.

 _"All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo."_

Stanley sighed in disappointment. He really had forgotten...

Or maybe... maybe he didn't. If he could just communicate with The Narrator..

Stanley looked around for something to write with. Surely there was at least ONE pen or something in this entire building! The Narrator saw Stanley messing with everything and said the appropriate line.

 _"No matter how hard Stanley looked, he couldn't find a trace of his co-workers."_

Stanley tuned him out and kept looking in boxes, behind piles, and he even tried typing on the computer. When he pressed a button on the computer, it turned to an error screen. It probably couldn't handle more than giving orders. He kept searching.

 _"Stanley went around touching every little thing in the office, but it didn't make a single difference, nor did it advance the story in any way."_

Stanley couldn't help but hearing this. Whoever wrote the dialogue must have had something against him, otherwise it wouldn't be trying SO hard to insult, annoy, and generally piss him off. It must have had a grudge against him or something, because there was not ONE single writing utensil in this room. He threw his arms in the air in defeat, and went out into the hallway. Stanley decided to go along with the story. Maybe he'd find something on the way.

 _"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left."_

Stanley glanced over the doors. Where would he start? This was a huge building, and he didn't want to waste time with endings. So many possibilities. Absentmindedly, he took the door on his right.

 _"This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and Stanley knew it prefectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it."_ Stanley wandered into the lounge. _"Ah yes. Truly a room worth-"_ Stanley left the room before he could finish. _"But eager to get back to buisiness, Stanley took the first open door on his left."_

Stanley looked into the doorway. It was a small room, and at the other side was the hallway going to the meeting room. He decided to skip it, as he could always come back to it.

 _"Stanley was so bad at following directions, it was incredible he wasn't fired years ago."_

Stanley stopped walking at that sentence. Even though he heard these phrases everyday, they still hurt like hell. It was painful to hear the same insults over and over again, all the time. He started to wonder... why was he even trying? Why did he care for The Narrator? What had The Narrator ever done for him? Sure, there was that one room where The Narrator tried to help them both be happy, but otherwise, The Narrator mocked him, insulted him, blew him up, and abandoned him. Even in the Freedom Ending. It was a happy ending, but it was also mocking him for the one thing he wasn't allowed: freedom. Freedom from the game. Freedom from The Narrator.

Then The Female Narrator's voice echoed through his head. Her laugh after he flipped the switch, and then the familiar dialogue.

 _"Oh, look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another. How they both wish to be free."_

They had both wanted to be free.. Stanley never thought about that hard enough.

 _"Can you see?"_ She had said. _"Can you see how much they need one another?"_

The last sentence got him to walk. Stanley knew now that they need to work together to get out of here, to escape the game. While The Narrator can control parts of the game, Stanley was the only one capable to actually go through it. All he had to do right now is find a pencil. He stepped into the large storage room. He looked behind the boxes, and tried looking ahead of him for anything. He couldn't open the boxes, as they were taped shut, and he had no way of opening them. Seeing there was nothing else to do, he looked down from the platform. Stanley did not want to go through an ending just to find a stupid pencil or something. So, taking a breath, he jumped off the platform, and fell to the ground below with a loud crack. His vision cut to black.

 _"But in his eagerness to prove that he is in control of the story and no one gets to tell him what to do, Stanley leapt from the platform and plunged to his death. Good job, Stanley. Everyone thinks you are very powerful."_

* * *

 **The End Is Never The End Is** **Loadi** **ng The End Is..**

* * *

Stanley spawned in his office. He quickly got out, as he was planning to go straight to the two doors, since there was no where else to look.

 _"All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo."_

Stanley got to the set of two open doors, and he got an idea.

 _"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left."_

Stanley went through the left door. Surely he could write on the whiteboards in the meeting room! At this thought, Stanley walked faster through the hallway. He stepped into the said room.

 _"Yet there was not a single person here either. Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his boss's office, hoping to find an answer there."_

That.. that wasn't a bad idea. If he couldn't do anything in here, going to his manager's office seemed like a great idea.

Stanley went to the whiteboards. There were no markers. Just his luck. And probably just to push the envelope, some dumbass decided to use permanant marker on the damn boards. Well, whoop-de-doo. Now, for that other idea. Stanley got out of the meeting room and into the next hallway. Walking a bit further, he passed by the broom closet: another place to have a writing utensil. He opened the door and went inside.

 _"Stanley stepped into the broom closet, but there was nothing here, so he turned around and got back on track."_

Stanley looked through the shelves in the closet. Some tools, a few rolls of tape.. he briefly considered taking the tape and making letters, or using the tools or the broom to carve out words on the wall. The thought quickly left him. That was ridiculous. What if he had a typo?

 _"There was nothing here. No choice to make, no path to follow, just an empty broom closet. No reason to still be here."_

Stanley sighed and got out. The Narrator was right about the broom closet being useless. Stanley decided to stick to his plan.

 _"Coming to a staircase, Stanley went upstairs to his boss's office."_

Stanley did so, and stepping inside the room outside of the office, he checked the desks for anything. Nothing. Just a few magazines and disfunctional computers. He went inside the office.

 _"Stepping into his manager's office, Stanley was once again stunned to see not an indication of any human life. Shocked, unraveled, Sta-"_ Just to shut him up, Stanley entered "2845" into the keypad before The Narrator could finish. _"Stanley was in such a rush to get through the story as quickly as possible, he didn't even have a single minute to let The Narrator talk. How stupid of him, as he can't even speak one word. Just think, him rummaging through desks, looking inside the broom closet.. he really must be retarded."_

Stanley was about to flip the ceiling off, when he realized something... that line of dialogue isn't even in the story! The Narrator seemed to have noticed his actions. Did that mean that The Narrator was aware again? He was determined to find out. Unfortunately, he still didn't have anything to write with. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, Stanley looked through his boss's desk, and finally, he found a pencil. There was nothing to write with, so he started writing on the walls. The Narrator saw this and began to protest.

 _"Hey! What are you-!"_ He stopped when he read the writing.

'Shut up for a minute and let me ask you something.' Seeing that The Narrator had gone silent, he began to write again. 'Do you remember anything from the previous restart?'

 _"Um.. no. I don't. I'm not sure why, though. Why are you asking me this?"_

'I'm afraid if I tell you, you're going to forget.'

 _"Make me forget?"_ The Narrator asked. _"But the only one who is capable of doing that is- *BEEP BEEP*"_

Another loud siren interrupted The Narrator, and Stanley's sight went black.

* * *

 **The End Is Never The End Is** **Loadi** **ng The End Is..**

* * *

The game had restarted. 'Dammit.' thought Stanley. He looked down to see that he still had the pencil in his hand, and smiled. Well, at least he didn't have to go through all that again. He got out of his office and immediately began writing in the walls.

 _"All of his co-workers were-wait-WAIT, WAIT WAIT WAITWAITWAIT. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"_

Stanley gestured to the sentence he wrote. 'Do you remember anything from the past restart? Anything at all?'

The Narrator had calmed down, but was confused. _"I.. restarted the game? Huh, I don't remember doing that.."_

Stanley held a hand up, signaling The Narrator to stop. He didn't want The Narrator saying anything to provoke the game to reset. Not again. It was annoying to get The Narrator to shut up every time he started writing on the wall. Unbearably annoying. He moved to another part of the wall and wrote again.

'Before you say anything, just answer me this: are you in charge of the game? Please circle yes or no. I do not want the game to restart again.' The Narrator was shocked. How did Stanley know? How did he get the idea that The Narrator wasn't in control here? It wasn't in the script to say that! Did he say something in the last playthrough? What had he done? Oh, he would be in SO much trouble for this...

There was a creepy silence. Then, after a few clicks, "no" was circled. Stanley was feeling a mix of victory and fear right now. Victory for finding his theory correct, and fear for knowing that there is something more powerful out there. He picked up the pencil.

'Don't talk. I think whoever is in charge can hear you. Allow me to ask you a few questions.'

The Narrator wasn't enjoying the idea of not speaking, after all, he's a narrator. But he couldn't just leave Stanley in the dark by speaking and restarting the game. He would surely forget everything. Hopefully his boss isn't watching... _'Sure. Make it quick.'_ The Narrator wrote. Stanley smiled. Now he could finally get some answers.

'Who is in charge?' The Narrator wasn't entirely sure how to answer this.

 _'I don't even know.'_ Stanley narrowed his eyes.

'How could you not know your own boss?'

 _'No one told me, okay? I've never even met them!'_

Wait, THEM?! There were multiple people? Were they human? Are they an organization? A cult? Why was The Narrator working for them? What was this about? Maybe this was a science experiment! Stanley had so many questions, but he apparently had a limited time, so, he went on to the next question.

'Okay.. why can't you remember anything when the game restarts?'

There was a pause. _'They don't want me to remember any plans or plots to escape my job. I was forced here. They erased everything I know. I don't even know if I have a name other than "The Narrator." I don't know if I even had a life outside this game. I-'_ The Narrator stopped writing when distant rolling sounds were being heard on his end.

'What is that?'

 _'My manager! Move to another room and act idle! He cannot know we've been talking!'_

Stanley immediately ran to the room with a set of two open doors, and stood as still as he could, similar to his pose in the Not-Stanley Ending. The Narrator saw this as an opportunity to speak, and look like he was doing his job.

 _"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left."_ A door was heard being opened on The Narrator's end. Stanley tried to look as mindless and souless as he could, while The Narrator was trying to act like he was supposed to in his lines... which was hard when your own brainwasher was standing behind you.

 _"Stanley? Hello? Are you... is everything okay?"_ A voice behind him chuckled.

 **"Oh, is this your stupid 'Not Stabley' Ending, or something?"** The Narrator swiveled around in his chair to face The Interviewer. He cleared his throat.

 _"Erm.. actually, its Stanley.. and yes it is, sir."_ The Narrator said, trying to sound respectful. _"And with all due respect, I think you should stop talking. Stanley might hear us."_

 **"He shouldn't be able to. You** **made sure of that, didn't you?"**

The Narrator gulped. _"Y-yes I did, sir. Now, please let me go on with the game-"_ The Narrator was suddenly pushed back by an invisible force, into the computer, tipping over the script, and making the microphone fall over, sending feedback in the speakers in the office. Stanley had to resist the urge to cover his ears.

 **"Do NOT give orders to a higher rank!"** The Interviewer yelled in a distorted voice. **"Next time you do that, you will lose something in that precious game of yours, and THEY will hear about it, and you will be punished. DO YOU HEAR ME?!"**

The Narrator got down and put back up the microphone and started gathering papers. _"Yes sir, it won't happen again, sir."_

There was a turning sound. **"Good."** The Interviewer said in a calmer tone. **"I was just checking up on you since you've gone quiet. Get back to work, Narrator."**

 _"Yes, sir."_ The door was heard being closed. The sound of rolling wheels grew farther and farther. When The Narrator couldn't hear it anymore, he sighed in relief. He got back up and sat at his desk. Stanley had already been writing.

'WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!'

 _'I was just punished for not doing my job.'_ The Narrator wrote sadly. _'If we are to continue talking, I'm going to say a few random lines here and there, so it looks like I'm working.'_

'Fine with me.' Stanley wrote.

The Narrator cleared his throat. _"All of his co-workers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo."_ Then The Narrator wrote, _'Nice job in acting there. I rate it a three.'_ Stanley laughed at the reference, and The Narrator smiled, happy he could make Stanley laugh even through he had just something to Stanley far worse than the Mind Control Machine; something worse than Not-Stanley Ending.

Stanley was in **his** story now.

* * *

 **[OKAY. This chapter is like, five times as long as an average chapter I write. You know why? CAUSE IMPROVEMENT.]**

 **[Yesss.. I'm going to be taking this story SERIOUSLY. So seriously, that I have prepared a room for it. A serious room. One with a table and nothing else.]**

 **[Do you know how long it took me to think of this? A HELL of lot of time! And I took a hell of lot of notes too! They're all in a separate room. That room is less serious than the first one.. its more of a... scrap room.]**

 **[Okay, I didn't use a reference for that. That was all improv there. It was just to get the point across that this story will take a longer time to update.]**

 **[Also, anyone who got the reference with Stanley writing words on the wall with a pencil gets an oreo!]**

 **[Stanley: *Raises hand*]**

 **[Oh, okay, you get one, Stanley. For allowing me to annoy and torture you so much.]**

 **[Stanley: *Takes the cookie and runs out of the room*]**

 **[Ah.. what am I doing? Whatever.. please review!]**

 **[(5/30/15) EDIT: New cover! I made it myself~! Just like the last one! This new cover will be used for stories having The Narrator as the main character.]**


	3. Repair

'Alright, next question.' Stanley wrote. 'I heard that your manager said that you would be punished. What exactly would "they" do?'

Oh wow.. just the thought of punishment terrified The Narrator. He'd never been penalized before, so he could only guess. And considering the amount of power these beings had, the possibilities were endless. He clicked the pencil icon.

 _'As you have heard, they are able to do something to the game, and now that you've heard what they could do with that small suggestion I've made, just imagine what they would do if I screw up my job.'_ He wrote. _'On one hand, they could destroy my work, and I would have to start from scratch. That means that they wouldn't hesitate to end your existence the moment anything goes wrong.'_

Stanley shuddered. He had killed himself before, but the thought of complete non-existence didn't sit well with him.

 _'On the other hand..'_ The Narrator continued, _'..they could take away my memory..."_ It hurt to write this. _'I barely have anything left.. I don't know what else they could take.. like I said before, I can't even remember my real name... if I had a family or not.. who I am.'_ Tears were now in The Narrator's eyes. He let a sob go through the microphone. _'I.. I'm sorry. That slipped.'_

Stanley felt a pang of guilt. 'Am I going too far?' He wrote.

 _'No.. its fine.'_ The Narrator wrote back.

Stanley looked down at the floor. He really hoped he didn't just hit a nerve there. He waited a moment, just to allow The Narrator to compose himself, and wrote another message.

'What are you planning on doing now?' Stanley put down the pencil, and tilted his head curiously at the ceiling. The Narrator stared at the message, and furrowed his brow. Was he really serious? He really thought he could do anything in his position?

The Narrator sighed and shook his head. _'I can't do anything. They're watching me. I'm completely powerless here.'_

Reading the answer, an idea popped into Stanley's head. He immediately smiled and rushed to start writing. 'If you're constantly watched and vulnerable up there... what if you came down here?' He turned around to face the ceiling and grinned.

The Narrator was taken aback by the suggestion. Go down _there?_ The very office that he had designed to trap Stanley forever? A bit confused to why Stanley would even think of this, he entertained the thought for a moment. Then again... he _would_ have complete power in the game. It would be like controlling an entire realm. He would be completely safe, as long as he was careful. But how would he do it..? As much as The Narrator distorts reality within the game, he didn't actually possess any magical powers. It was all done on his computer. Hm, maybe he could bring a mobile control system along with him. All he would have to do is build it...

The Narrator smiled. This could work! _'Wonderful idea, Stanley! Truely brilliant! Although..'_ he thought about the problems with doing this. _'..it would be incredibly hard to actually_ _ **leave**_ _my recording room. What if "they" or my manager come to check up on me?'_

Stanley's grin faded. Oh yeah. He forgot about that. 'But.. all you really need to do is get down here, right?' The Narrator replied with a yes.

Without warning, the door behind The Narrator swung open, and The Interviewer came in. **"I KNEW IT!"** The machine was set to a scary anger mask. **"You were planning something, weren't you? You thought you could get away with this, didn't you?"** He accused. The invisible force pushed The Narrator to the wall. He struggled against it.

 _"N-No! I was doing my job, I swear! Please don't hurt me!"_ He pleaded. His eyes landed on the monitor. Stanley had already gone to another room. At least The Interviewer wouldn't see any of that. The Interviewer went over to the reset button. The Narrator started struggling harder. _"NO! DON'T-"_

Too late.

The Narrator fell limp as a ragdoll, his cyan glow fading. He was released from The Interviewer's grip. The Interviewer watched, unfeeling as The Narrator fell to the floor. **"I'll keep a closer eye on you."** The Interviewer went over to the doorway. **"Next time, do as you're told."** He hissed, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, The Narrator's glow flickered back on, and he shakily stood up. His head ached. How did that happen? And what was he doing all the way over here? He saw his computer, displaying Stanley's loading screen. He sat down on his roller-chair and flipped his script back to the start, ready to begin again.

* * *

 **The End Is Never The End Is** **Loadi** **ng The End Is..**

* * *

Stanley appeared back in his office. He stomped his foot in frustration. They did it again. THAT STUPID MANAGER DID IT AGAIN. Now he has to explain all of this to The Narrator. ALL. OVER. AGAIN. Stanley stepped out of his office, only to hear the one line that confirmed his thoughts.

 _"All of his co-workers were gone, what could it mean?"_

Stanley was usually very silent and calm. He would usually ignore The Narrator's dialogue and move on. This wasn't one of those times. Horribly pissed off, he punched the wall to his right, leaving a deep, gaping hole. His hand was now cut and bleeding - maybe even broken - but he didn't care. He just really needed to let that out.

 _"Stanley decided to go to-"_ The Narrator stopped at the sound of a crash, and the sight of Stanley's bloody fist. The Narrator was speechless. Had he said something wrong? Did he do something in the last restart? Eyes darting back and forth, be ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn't remember. Hesitantly, he leaned up to the microphone. _"...Stanley?"_ He spoke quietly. _"Is there something wrong?"_

Taking a few calming breaths, Stanley bowed his head. As he calmed down, he winced. The pain was finally getting to him now. He sat down on the floor and cradled his hand. Blood dripped onto the floor, and so did a few tears. He wiped his eyes with his free hand. Dammit, what the hell was he thinking?

Turning his hand over, Stanley could see it was badly bruised and - wait, was it turning black and blue?! He gagged at the sight and tried not to look at certain parts of his hand. 'Okaay, try not to think of that..' he thought, shuddering a bit at the memory. The sharp pain growing stronger in his hand was almost unbearable, and he forced himself to look back at it. 'Oh God - now its worse.'

The bruises were covered up, yes... with more of his blood. A small puddle of it gathered on the floor. Not really wanting to move around, Stanley looked around him. Maybe there was something he could use to help him? Unfortunately, he didn't get very far when he had punched the wall, and he was barely in front of his office. He began to tremble at the stinging in his hand and a few more tears slipped out. Yeah, this wasn't the best idea.

The Narrator watched in silence. Feeling a bit bad for the employee, he typed a line of code onto the computer, spawning a roll of bandages next to Stanley. Stanley gladly accepted them, quickly snatching the roll and wrapping his hand. He hadn't even bothered to see if he was getting the bleeding parts, he just wrapped it as much as he could. Soon, his hand was covered in them. It was a bit rushed, he had to admit, but at least it stopped the bleeding. The Narrator sighed.

 _"Alright, at least you won't faint or die of blood loss. Now that that's over, I think we should get on with the story."_ Pages are heard being turned. Stanley stood up and dusted himself off. Might as well help The Narrator with his job. Stanley decided that he'd explain everything later, when he's in a better mood.

The Narrator took a breath, then paused. _"Ehm... you haven't been weakened or anything from this? You can still walk? I can reset the game if the injury is that serious..."_ He trailed off, as if he already had a hand over the reset button. Stanley quickly shook his head and gestured a "no" with his hands.

The Narrator huffed, returning to his usual tone. _"Hmph. Fine then. I'm only trying to help. Oh, and_ _ **thanks**_ _for the new hole in the wall. I didn't think this place needed decor like this, but I guess I'm wrong."_ The Narrator remarked. Stanley rolled his eyes and went into the room with two doors. The Narrator made a mock thoughtful noise. _"Hmm. Looking at it now, I can see why you thought the room needed improvement. I'll have to.. jot that down."_ The Narrator hummed as he scribbled onto a notebook. _"Need... more... holes."_ He muttered as he wrote. A pencil is heard being dropped onto a desk. _"There. The idea's there. I'll consider it. Thank you for your contribution."_

There was a moment of silence. Stanley just stood there, in the middle of the room, staring vacantly at the ceiling. The Narrator made a slight gasp and the script is heard being opened. _"Oh, uh, right - the story. I've gotten myself quite off track, haven't I? Heheh.."_ The Narrator murmered to himself. He cleared his throat. _"When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left."_ Stanley automatically went through the right door. _"This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and Stanley knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it."_ Stanley strolled into the lounge, and plopped onto the couch. _"And here it was, the lounge. What a room, Stanley thought to himself. What a room, what a room, what a room. This is what Stanley thought: what a room! What a room, what a room! What a room! What a room. What a room."_

Stanley snickered at bit at The Narrator's dialogue. He really had to admire how comedic it is, despite everything that has happened so far. Yawning a little, he swung his legs onto the sofa, lying down and getting himself comfortable. The Narrator continued to say his dialogue. _"Yeeesss, really, really worth it being here in the room. A room so utterly captivating that even though all of your co-workers have mysteriously vanished, here you sit looking at these chairs and some paintings. Really worth it."_ Stanley leaned his head against the arm of the chair, closing his eyes. Perhaps his injury had weakened him after all. He found it hard to get up now that he's laid down. Maybe he should just rest for a bit...

Silence filled the room. Its as if The Narrator had actually thought about Stanley over the story, and allowed him this one ti-

 _"Um... Stanley?"_

Oh. Nevermind.

Stanley cracked open an eye. If he could, he would have groaned in annoyance. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He tilted his head and gave the ceiling a dull look, folding his arms. The Narrator cleared his throat nervously.

 _"Well, sorry for disturbing you. I was going to let you sleep, honestly. I just have a question."_ Stanley gestured with his uninjured hand to continue. _"Alright just answer me this; why did you punch the wall in the first place?"_ Stanley immediately blinked his eyes awake. Well, I guess he can cross relaxing off the list. He wasn't exactly in a good mood, but this seemed like a good time to say something.

The Narrator continued. _"I mean.. did I do something wrong? What had happened in the last restart? Have I.. have I said something..?"_ He asked in a hushed tone, actually sounding a bit worried at the thought. Stanley gestured another "no" before The Narrator could say anything else. That wasn't it at all! Not even close!

The Narrator breathed a sigh of relief. _"Ah, good. I wouldn't want you to be unhappy, Stanley. That's the complete opposite of what I want."_ Stanley smiled at that. It was nice to know that The Narrator cared for him.

The script is heard being closed, along with creaking sound. The Narrator had leaned back on his chair. _"Now, tell me, why did you choose to do such a thing, anyway?"_ Stanley sat there, unsure of what to say. _"Go on, write on the wall. You think I can't see that pencil in your pocket? The writing will disappear when the game restarts anyway, along with the hole you made, so don't worry."_ A little unnerved at The Narrator's knowledge, Stanley reluctantly took out his pencil and began to write.

'I was mad that I would have to tell you everything all over again.'

The Narrator.. didn't know what to make of that. _"Tell me everything_ _ **again**_ _? What exactly do you mean by 'again?'"_

Stanley cringed. He really hoped The Interviewer didn't hear any of that. He went on. 'I know about your manager. I know about your job. During the last restart, we were discussing on what to do next. Your manager came in and restarted the game. That's why you can't remember anything.' Before The Narrator could respond, he held a hand up. 'Don't say anything. If the game restarts AGAIN, I might need to punch another wall.'

The Narrator didn't say another word after that. He enabled the writing option on his mouse. _'So, what were we planning on doing, anyway?'_

Stanley grinned. 'You're going to make a mobile controller, something that controls the game as well as whatever you've been using, and come down here. We're escaping this place.'

* * *

 **[Oh, what is this? Could it be? After so very long?]**

 **[YESSS, A NEW CHAPTER!]**

 **[Ehm.. apologizes for this being a filler chapter... and rather short compared to the rest of them. But at least its being worked on, right?]**

 **[Alright, stuff's gonna happen in the next chapter, don't worry. Uh... until next time, I suppose!]**

 **[Actually, before I go, I need to state a few things. There will be a poll coming up real soon, so be sure to check the top of my profile. Its important (well, not TERRIBLY important), that you fill it out. Also, I'm going to be dusting off and polishing my old fanfics. I'll just be adding a few sentences here and there, so if you see anything new, I added it in.]**

 **[Okay, you may move on now.]**

 **[Please review!]**


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